


heavy green dreams

by hariboo



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: F/M, his name is eric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ground digs into her knees marking her with it's earth, sienna on porcelain, as she leans into him, over him, one hand twisted in the muddy hair at the nape of his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heavy green dreams

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [livin' on a prayer](http://sister-wife.livejournal.com/15920.html?thread=255536#t255536) ficathon. also written before i saw the film so it's not really canon but it could fit in there somewhere i guess.

The ground digs into her knees marking her with it's earth, sienna on porcelain, as she leans into him, over him, one hand twisted in the muddy hair at the nape of his neck. Snow sighs. His fingers spread under her thighs. He warm even under the cool sky of the forest, against the wet ground he protects her from even though she doesn't need it. Not from the land. But he touches her, his eyes always on her _let me (protect you)_ and she holds him maleable and strong under her. _I want (this and you) _. Her other hand curls into the wood of the tree behind him. The moss is cool -- deep green and wet -- against her palm, fingers sinking into.__

She sinks into him. 

Her toes curl into the wet ground, her edges catch the jacket he laid under them. 

She used to dream of her kingdom, of the fields and the streams, and the trees she used climb. She dreamt of her mother's words and her father's voice, but all she would see was the land, stretched wide and lush across the horizon. 

Eric's lip touch her throat. He mouths words at the edge of her tattered dress, at the curve of her breast. She arches into him. Her fingers fist. He stays. She grounds herself into him. The leather of her trousers rubs at his by her calves. Their thighs are slick. 

The forest swallows their sounds and the twisted edges of the trees sprinkle the cool sun onto their skin. He's warmer than the sky, the ground, the forest. Snow's been cold for so long. She presses herself to his front, buries her nose at his neck. The forest clings to him -- green, blood, shadows, and leather -- 

Her breath catches. 

The scratch of his beard scraps across her shoulder and then her cheek. She gasps into his ear, fingers cradling his head. 

Above her the sun plays against the leaves and the wind is dead, but under her the ground feels alive. Eric's muscles roll under her thighs. His hands hold her like he does his axe; precious but with knowledge---there's a blade at one end. She becomes sharper each day. Snow gasps. He knows how to handle an axe, how to wield a sword, how to touch her. His hands are rough, thick skin over the a palms and fingers. Snow thinks of the bark of the tree under the moss. 

Her teeth press against his ear, whispers his name. Thinks of him as hers. 

His lips are warm under her when she leans into kiss him. He follows her into it, holding her close as she gasps into his mouth. Her thighs will bare the press of his fingers later and her thighs already feel sore. He whispers her name. 

Snow's head snaps back, lips red from his kiss, part and she sees the sun shine brighter as her body clenches and she falls against him. Eric's mouth is soft against her cheek. His bread is rough. Snow sighs and curls her arms around him. Mine, she thinks, and feel young and old. Mine, she thinks, and remembers her dreams. 

Eric's palm touches her cheek, his thumb at sharp jut of her chin. Snow smiles at him. Eric's lips soften into a smile. She thinks he should smile more. She almost says this, but stops. His eyes are on her and her breath catches so differently than before. 

They remind her of the sky, the old sky, the one bright and blue. Her palm lays flat on his chest, her lips touch his pulse, strong and steady, under the thin skin of his neck, left unprotected only to her. Yours, he said; his face, his eyes, the curls of his lips. Yours, to wield. Yes, she said, and he leans into her touch. Something settles in her. Something strengths. Snow thinks she's ready to take back her home.


End file.
